


Jealousy

by etherian



Series: The Dark Ones [7]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Erotica, F/M, Jealousy, Public Sex, Vampirism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4391681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherian/pseuds/etherian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cheval will destroy the other man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealousy

**Cheval will destroy the other man**

Cheval's fingers traipsed uninterestedly across the green velvet arm of the heavily carved oak lounger. He glared into the shadows as his hand tightened over the jewelled hilt of his dagger.

_I ought to slit her throat..._

Cheval's blue eyes of midnight glittered as a fang peeked out to prick a drop of ruby blood from his lower lip. He smiled thinly but then melancholy fell over him like a funeral shroud.

"ELENA!!" he cried to the halls of the empty manor.

There was no answer.

Cheval felt his heart rip with the pain that coursed like a burn through his veins.

_Was she kissing him? Letting him touch her beautiful, soft breasts? Were his lips nibbling that forbidden pebble that belonged to him?_

"ELENA!!" Cheval rose with this anguished cry. He could not sit and wait while the images of his vile imagination thought the worst of his lover. He would go out into the shadows of the night... he would find her.

 _And, him... yes,_  murmured Cheval to himself,  _I shall rip his heart out from 'tween his ribs and feast upon it._

Elena would rather be dancing as champagne dripped over her body... instead, she was bored. Monsieur Delacroix loved the sound of his own voice, and his pretty clothes, and his dashing cane and top hat. He insisted Elena --  _such a pretty little thing she was_  -- rest her hand within his elbow. She winced slightly as the delicate, little shoes pinched her feet.

"Monsieur," Elena graciously interrupted, "you asked me to meet with you, here on this lovely day, because you had news for me. As much as I adore learning about the beautiful roses that were donated by the Duchess for all the people to enjoy," The portly gentleman with too thin legs nodded ever so politely to the exquisite woman on his arm. "I should ever like to know what news it is you have for me." Slowly she blinked, covering the deep sapphire of her blue eyes for the briefest moment. Monsieur Delacroix felt his heart batter his ribs as Elena's eyelashes swept downward like a Michelangelo brush stroke.

"Indeed, indeed, my dear Lady Elena. I do have news... I confess, though, that you are such a distraction I am loathe to bring our business to an untoward end."

Elena's head lifted as an unnatural breeze stirred the leaves in the trees beneath which she walked with Monsieur Delacroix. "Monster," she whispered as a devilish twinkle sparked in one eye.

"Pardon, my dear?"

"News, Monsieur. You asked me to come so you could deliver your news..." she once again reminded him. She drew in a steady breath as the cold tip of a steel dagger stroked her cheek.

The aristocrat sighed heavily. "It is coming upon dusk so I must speak my words to you. But, come, sit with me over here, my lady."

The couple, delicate Elena in a dress of royal blue and a black velvet tailored coat and Monsieur Delacroix in the fashion of the day that only made him resemble a well dressed egg with skinny legs wrapped in white linen trousers, seated themselves upon a stone bench beneath a large tree whose leaves blocked the last of the sun. There was a slight chill but Elena sensed the chill of something darker -- a menacing touch that promised death if she misstepped.

The well-perfumed egg pulled an envelope from inside his cut-away jacket that did little to provide him with warmth. He regretted leaving his long, woollen coat at home. He handed the envelope to his lovely companion and wondered if she might join him for dinner.

"The letter is from the child you have been seeking."

"Astrid. Where is she?" Elena's voice was nearly as sharp as the nail that invisibly stroked down the side of her neck.

"Ireland, county Cork. The Darcy Farm. Older couple have been raising her. She is nine now," he replied stiffly. Removing a too red handkerchief from his pocket he mopped at the sweat that had suddenly appeared with a sickening drop in his belly.

"And the letter is from Astrid and not either of those that are fostering her?" Elena turned the letter over in her black lace gloved hands.

The aristocratic egg frowned. He had expected his client to rip open the letter and to promptly read it. She had been that anxious to find the child. "It is Mr. Darcy that writes, my lady. He did not wish the child to know of you, yet."

Elena stood smoothly. "Thank you, Monsieur Delacroix. You have done so much..."

He smiled. "Our association ends, then, does it not. Perhaps you shall join me..." Ice flooded the egg's veins as a tall man, thin of frame, but imposing with his dark gaze stepped onto the path. Cheval, dressed in soft grey trousers, polished black Prussian boots, a smartly tailored cut-away coat of deep red that revealed a waistcoat of embroidered black velvet, bowed in a courtly manner. Monsieur Delacroix knew, without thinking it, that here was the personification of Death.

Elena smoothly slipped her hand onto Cheval's arm. He glided next to her. His eyes of midnight sparkled with dangerous mirth as he smiled at the portly gentleman. I was jealous of this cretin? he laughed within at himself.

"My brother, Cheval. Cheval, this is Monsieur Delacroix who has ended my search." Her small, slim fingers gripped her deadly lover's arm, "Be kind," her voice lowered in a plea.

"I am most grateful, Monsieur Delacroix," Cheval's voice fell graciously as of dark honey oozing from its comb. "Elena has spoken well of you. It is a shame we shall not all... meet... again." He turned a dark, and very hungered gaze upon his beloved. "We will be late, dear sister."

Elena's mouth rounded in an "o" and Cheval felt a tightening he intended to loosen with haste the moment he was able. "I had forgotten, Cheval! I am terribly sorry." She curtsied to the egg. "Good eve, Monsieur Delacroix."

"G-g-g-good evening," he whispered with a dry throat. He was very glad to see the brother of the Lady Elena sweep her away until, in a blink, he saw neither in the rising mist. He turned, and headed down the path away from the strange couple, towards home.

Cheval beckoned the shadows of the trees to hide himself and Elena. When they were thus cocooned he pulled her tight, obscenely so, against his body. He ground his heat into her as he devoured her mouth. He tasted the ghost of a very expensive brandy upon her tongue.

"Cheval!" Elena squeaked with a breathy laugh. "You will take my breath from me if you do not loosen your embrace."

"My apologies...  _sister_..." His laugh at the absurdity set flame to her desire. Cheval did loosen his arms, only slightly, and then he bent to nibble his teeth along the length of her pale throat. Elena melted against him until he had to tighten his arms once more to steady her.

"You never told me that Delacroix was nothing but a fleshy pig, mischievous girl," he scolded softly.

"Jealous, my love?" Elena asked as she kissed his cheek and swayed temptingly against his arousal.

In sharp rebuke Cheval shoved Elena up against the tree they stood under. The breeze tightened the weave of the shadowing leaves as he gripped the skirt of her dress and crumpled it across her waist. "Terribly so," he growled as he undid the placket of his trousers. "I could not... decide... whether to kill you, him, or perhaps..." his thrust was hard, almost brutal. Elena gasped and her fingernails gripped his shoulder. "Both!" Once more he thrust hard enough to rip a scream from Elena that he caught as he captured her mouth in his.

The breeze rippled through the leaves to cover the moans, the sharp gasps as the minutes passed in sinful delight for the lovers. The mist rose so that the intertwined bodies of Cheval and Elena were no more than ghosts against the tree. Far in the distant night thunder broke the sky. Cheval moaned deep, and shuddered his pleasure. Elena let tears of her completion fall down her cheeks. Cheval leaned forward, his hair brushing her bared breasts. He licked away each precious tear.

“My lovely Elena,” he crooned with soothing comfort. “I am jealous of any who dare to think they might take you from me...” she kissed his cheeks then brushed hers to his cold lips in abject apology. 

With bruising speed he spun her long hair into his fist and pulled so tightly she gasped. His eyes burned with dark blue fire and he drew her face quickly to his. With fierce delight he pierced her lower lip with one fang. For a moment he watched the small portion of blood well up from the wound and then trickle over the sweet plumpness of her lip. He stuck out his tongue, and caught it.

A tear fell from Elena’s eye... Cheval removed it with the pad of his thumb as he allowed her hair to uncoil from his hand. “Yes, Beloved?”

“Forgive me, my Monster,” she whispered. “I should not tease.”

Cheval delicately covered the rounded flesh he adored, kissing the decolletage. He then smoothed Elena's skirt, and drew his hand down the length of her bruised back. Once more he kissed her. 

“Forgiven,” he murmured. Drawing her hand to his elbow they emerged from the mist and the shadows to join other couples that were strolling the gaslit path through the garden.

Cheval was content.

~Jayne d’Arcy


End file.
